Trust In Me
by IcyPanther
Summary: Lance has no idea what sick game Lotor is playing. All he knows is he wants no part of it. But easier said than done, especially as the prince seems to be following him. Everywhere. / Lotor clucked his tongue at Lance's answer. "Not friends, not teammates. What do you want us to be, Lance?" Lance swallowed thickly, stomach twisting as he met the yellow gaze. "I want you to leave."
1. One

**Timeline notes:** Set during season five episode one/two although several differences in regards to character locations so slight AU of those episodes.

 **Warning notes:** Some non-consensual touching but nothing really sexual in nature. Bit of a stalker vibe as well. Er, Lotor is a creep who likes to make others uncomfortable?

 **Trust in Me**

 **One**

 _Trust in me, just in me  
_ _Shut your eyes and trust in me  
_ _You can sleep safe and sound  
_ _Knowing I am around_

 _Slip into silent slumber  
_ _Sailing on a silver mist  
_ _Slowly and surely your senses  
_ _Will cease to resist_

 _Trust in me, just in me  
_ _Shut your eyes and trust in me  
_ – _The Jungle Book_

 _xxx_

"You do not trust me."

Lance startled, nearly dropping the shirt he had been folding, at hearing someone this far down in the bowels of the castle.

A tick later though his eyes were narrowing as he took in the figure lounging across the doorframe that led to the small laundry room as though he owned it.

Lotor.

Allura and Shiro had released him from his prison just that morning after he'd told them he had information on where Pidge and Matt's dad may be located. Shiro had insisted that Lotor was an ally now, compounded by all of the accurate and vital information he had provided, and that they did _not_ treat allies like prisoners.

Lance had been completely against it, as had Pidge and Hunk, but Allura had sided with Shiro that Lotor had no reason to deceive them at this point and allowing him to roam about the castle and have his own actual chambers would get them further cooperation than keeping him contained as a prisoner of war.

Lance didn't care if the guy gave up information on the location of the Holy Grail. He didn't trust him.

If Lotor had been _so_ interested in working with them then why had he not done so before? Why not when he still had connections and power in the Galra Empire where he could change it from the inside?

Lotor had only come to them when he'd alienated all of his generals and was on the run from the Galra Empire. He _had_ saved their lives by blowing up the ship before Naxzela blew them up but one good deed did not erase all of the others. Lotor had done that as an in, a way to get close to Voltron.

Just… no one would listen. Not enough to matter, at least.

Lance supposed he had no one to blame but himself. He'd spent too many months playing the role of goofball, of picking stupid fights with Keith and hitting (obnoxiously) on Allura. He had been trying to be better; once Shiro had disappeared he'd had to grow up, step up. And he had. He'd been a good second in command, he thought so at least; a foil to Keith's recklessness.

But then Shiro came back, the same and yet different, and Keith had left and Shiro hadn't needed – wanted – Lance's support like Keith had. Instead he turned to Allura and Lance couldn't fault him because Allura was _amazing_ and definitely had better advice than anything he could offer.

Now though, even though he'd proven himself to be more than all of that, it still wasn't enough.

Allura and Shiro had listened to his concerns when Lotor was first brought aboard, claiming he wished to help them end this war, acknowledging that they would be wary to his claims. But with every successful mission, every stronghold gained and base destroyed, Lotor's words had gained power.

And Lotor had a way with words. He spun a pretty tale of poison dipped in honey that even Allura had begun to succumb to, that had turned Shiro to a staunch supporter. And with those two, the literal head of Voltron and then the head of the Coalition, opting to give him a chance everyone else had no choice but to do so too.

Not Lance though. No. He would obey any direct orders from Allura or Shiro, but he would _not_ go along with any plan Lotor concocted. They could use his information but the directives would be from either Allura or Shiro or he would not go. He didn't care if it was insubordination. What were they going to do, exactly? Offer to let Lotor fly the Red Lion?

He'd promptly had to find the one piece of wood in the castle (a cutting board Hunk had picked up from a marketplace a few months back) just to make sure he hadn't jinxed himself.

Lance had made the decision to avoid Lotor as much as possible now that the Galran prince had been given free reign of the castle, minus any of the Lion hangars and the bridge without an escort. And yet somehow, with a castle the size of the space mall five times over, Lotor had found the laundry room and subsequently found Lance.

Just great.

Lance decided the best course was just to ignore him and went back to folding his clothes. Maybe he'd get the hint and go away.

A minute later though he glanced up from under his bangs and the prince was still there, examining his nails with bored interest and still taking up the entirety of the doorway. Lance grimaced. He might not be the smartest person aboard the ship but he _was_ people smart. And every part of him screamed danger when Lotor was around, even when he was doing nothing.

He did not want him here.

Not the laundry room. Not the castle. Not even this sector of the universe.

He couldn't do anything about the latter two but he could at least attempt to remove him from the first. Besides, Lance eventually was going to finish his laundry and he had no desire to have to squeeze out past the lounging form.

"Figured that out all on your own, did you?" he sighed, going to Lotor's original question as though no time whatsoever had passed. He kept his gaze firmly fixed on his task though, not willing to give the prince any more attention than necessary.

"Why do you not trust me?" came the reply, the words almost sounding hurt but Lance knew better. Lotor was not offended or hurt. He was an actor and _all_ of this was an act. And Lance refused to play the part of the fool.

"Why should I?" Lance countered, looking up from his shirt and trying not to startle as he came nearly face to face with Lotor, who had silently stepped into the room and was standing there, only the laundry hamper between them, with his sharp yellow gaze fixed on Lance's face. He met it, refusing to be intimidated even though there was something very dangerous in those eyes. A silent shudder went down his spine.

"The others do."

"Your generals trusted you and look where that got them." Lotor had relayed that bit of information willingly and Lance, despite the fact the Galra were the enemy, had been appalled that Lotor could point-blank kill one of subordinates just like that. Even hearing that she was apparently a spy reporting back to Haggar meant nothing to Lance.

There was never an excuse for killing a friend, killing someone who _trusted_ you.

He hadn't thought his opinion of Lotor could sink any lower but surprise, it had. And _nothing_ was going to improve it.

Lotor laughed, fangs glinting in the dim lighting of the room, and sending Lance's hair prickling. He'd just brought up the fact that Lotor had murdered someone and he was _laughing._

Oh yeah. He did not trust him one bit.

"My generals were pawns," Lotor came away from his mirth. "When they did not align with my goals I had no choice but to… take measures." His grin sharpened. "I should not expect one such as yourself to understand the finer points of a war."

One such as…?

"You are only a fill-in Red Paladin after all," Lotor continued. "No one expects much of you."

Lance's hands tightened on his folded shirt, knuckles white. He'd like nothing more than to slug the sharp grin right off Lotor's pointed face, but he had a feeling it would be him somehow coming out on the losing end of that punch, especially as to reach said pointed face he'd need to jump for it. Curse Lotor's height.

He concentrated on that hot anger rather than the icy coil that settled in his stomach at Lotor's words. He _knew_ they weren't true. Well, not really. He knew no matter how far he had come since first arriving in space he was still the weak link of the team. He had nothing on Hunk and Pidge's genius, Shiro's leadership and skills and Allura's graceful power. That didn't even include Keith, who was just a more hot-headed Shiro, and Coran, who was invaluable to keeping them all afloat. He was just a guy with really good aim and useful for lightening up a tense situation (or making it worse depending on who you asked).

"Touched a nerve, did I?"

Lance realized he'd let the silence stretch for too long and he forced himself to meet Lotor's yellow and purple eyes, angling his lips into a frown. He had to say _something_ back or this was going to the impression he left Lotor with. And while he didn't give a damn what Lotor thought of him… he supposed he sort of did. Only to the extent though that he was not going to be a doormat for Lotor to stomp all over. He was a Paladin of Voltron and nothing Lotor said could negate that fact.

"I _am_ the Red Pal–"

"By necessity," Lotor interrupted smoothly and Lance faltered in his defense at the sheer confidence to which Lotor made the claim.

"Shiro told me everything. It's quite the tale, truly. But what it boils down to is this: you are the spare Paladin and once your Galra teammate returns you will not be needed." His teeth flashed. "It is only a matter of time."

Lance hated that he had nothing to say to that because honestly? That was his worst fear too.

He'd already tried once to address the situation with Keith, but Keith in all his mullet-head-ness had left him with the reassurance of "leave the math to Pidge" which really, what did that even mean? Lance was willing to step down; the universe was at stake and he wouldn't allow his own feelings to get in the way of what was best for it. But then Keith had stepped aside for Shiro and hadn't asked for Red back, instead choosing to go with the Blades of Marmora and Lance still felt guilty that maybe Keith had done it to spare his feelings and allow him to remain a Paladin but he had never found the courage to ask.

And Lance would still of course step aside if Keith came back and wanted to pilot Red again because Keith was better; the better pilot, the better right-hand, the better Paladin. It was just…

He had come _so_ far and at the end of the day it didn't matter. He was still the weak link on the team.

And the fact that Lotor knew it…

He swallowed thickly, earlier conviction vanished in the face of Lotor's smug knowing. It was hard to play the part when the audience knew what lay behind the curtain.

"But do not fear," Lotor smiled, an unkind thing. "I'm certain there is still a place for you here when that time comes. Shiro will–"

"Stop calling him that," Lance broke in, stomach twisting at the familiarity to which Lotor spoke Shiro's name. It sounded… wrong.

"You wish for me to stop calling him by his name?" Lotor raised an eyebrow. "What an interesting notion. I had thought it a courtesy to call ones friends by their given names."

"We are _not_ friends," Lance growled, hands tightening into fists.

"Is that so, _Lance?"_ and Lance suppressed the shudder as Lotor enunciated his name, accent elongating the 'a' as Allura tended to do, but unlike her he felt that it was being made as a mockery.

"Don't call me that." Lance was relieved when his demand came out sounding more like a command than a petulant child.

"Hm," Lotor tapped a long finger against his chin. "Then what shall I call you?" He grinned, fang peeking over his lip. "There are _so_ many options to choose from."

"Paladin," Lance said firmly. Paladin was safe. And it had the added bonus of throwing his position consistently back in Lotor's face. He _was_ the Red Paladin.

He was.

For now.

"Titles, is it? Then I suppose you shall have to call me 'Prince.'" Lotor cut into his spiraling thoughts. "I actually quite like this. Go ahead, _Paladin,_ say my name. I long to hear it from your lips."

Lance's stomach gave another curdle at the way Lotor almost seemed to leer at him then, waiting. Prince was Lotor's title, yes, (although technically was he an ex-prince now? Banished prince?) but saying only his title felt… off.

It wasn't like with Allura, where calling her "Princess" was both a sign of respect of her station and also because he knew how much it meant to her. Altea was gone and she technically had no people other than Coran; she was practically a princess of nothing. But Lance thought she was _everything_ the universe could have ever hoped for and more. She deserved all of the respect and love that could be offered.

Lotor though was not Lance's prince. He would never bow to him, even if he someday became Emperor. Prince was too much, Prince Lotor was too respectful and Lotor was too familiar, too friendly. Lance wondered if he could get away with not actually addressing Lotor at all. Yes. That seemed to be the safest option.

Lance raised his chin and leveled as much of a glare as he could muster at Lotor, lips pressed firmly together. There. That was his answer.

"No? Pity," Lotor shook his head although he didn't look all that upset. "Then I suppose I shall call you what I wish, _Lance."_

Lance said nothing. He _chose_ to say nothing because he had nothing to say to this conceited, traitorous person.

At least, that's what he was telling himself.

"I've enjoyed our little chat," Lotor smiled at him. "I look forward to many more. I have a feeling you and I are going to be seeing quite a bit of each other."

Lotor stepped away then, long stride carrying him to the doorway in a matter of ticks. He paused there, looking back over his shoulder. "Until then, _Lance."_

And with a flip of silver hair he was gone.

He did not take Lance's growing unease with him.

xxx

Lance scowled to himself, knee deep in his closet and checking his room completely over _just in case_ for the fourth time before he started searching the rest of the castle. He swore he'd last seen them by the door and normally when the mice mice-napped them they only took one. Then again, last time they'd used it as a sled to go down the stairs so maybe they'd opted for races this time. Huh. That would actually be pretty adorable to watch.

Lance shook shook his head. No. Focus. Find slippers.

The search was becoming almost desperate, his normally semi-neat room now with bedding every which way, knick-knacks knocked over and his clothes no longer neatly folded from that morning. It's not that he was this upset over a pair of slippers.

It was just…

They were the last link he had to Blue.

He hadn't offered them to Allura when she had taken over as the Blue Paladin as one; his feet had been in them and a princess had standards and two; he didn't want to part with them. Blue had chosen him. _Him._ He couldn't quite describe how it had felt to be wanted, needed, and the absolute acceptance he'd felt when Blue had deemed him worthy to pilot her out of all of the other amazing people he had discovered her in the cave with.

He had gone to her once following the swap but she had not brushed his mind with her own. She had remained as cold as the ice she conjured and he had left, understanding that she needed to move on and focus on growing her bond with Allura, but heartbroken to have lost that part of him.

And Red… she hadn't had any other option than to pick him in that moment to keep Voltron going.

A fill-in Paladin.

He winced, Lotor's words ringing still hours later in his head.

He had been more than bothered by that exchange. It's not that Lotor had _done_ anything other than insult him, and Lance really should have been used to that with Pidge's barbs at his intelligence, not to mention all of the Garrison staff who had routinely reminded him of why he was even in the fighter pilot program. But Pidge cared, he knew that. That was just her way of trying to show affection. And he'd been able to brush off the hurtful comments from teachers over time, understanding how devastated they must have been to have had someone like Keith and then he was the next best.

A fill-in. Again. He hated that word.

Lotor though… Lotor had not been friendly, despite his claims of seeking such. He had been looking for a reaction and Lance…

Lance wasn't sure what he had given him.

And _that_ left him feeling unsettled more than the words had hurt.

He still didn't trust Lotor not to be using Voltron, using _them,_ to further his own agenda but he had been forced to acknowledge that since Lotor needed them– and they did _not_ need him, no matter what Allura thought about forming an alliance with the Galra if Zarkon could be usurped – that meant their safety would be a priority of his (until he got whatever it is he was after).

But now?

He wasn't sure.

Lotor hadn't even threatened him, not physically. He hadn't even touched him, maintaining his distance across the laundry hamper.

So why did Lance feel so uneasy about the encounter?

Well, he would just make certain the next time he ran into the smug prince he would have the last word.

Although personally he'd rather just avoid him completely minus mandatory strategy meetings. He wondered what dinner was going to be like; would Lotor actually eat with them? Ugh. Maybe they could set him up at his own table in the corner.

He frowned though. Allura wouldn't agree to that, or Shiro. They'd stressed that Lotor was an ally now, that his information had indeed led to a number of victories for the Coalition. And that meant that they would expect everyone to at least make some sort of effort to at least not alienate (ha, alien) him.

Well, no use worrying about it now. He'd find out what the situation was when he went to dinner soon. Maybe Lotor was just as eager to avoid them as Lance knew most of them were.

Although…

" _I have a feeling you and I are going to be seeing quite a bit of each other."_

Lance had a sinking feeling it might not be simple to avoid Lotor. Although _why_ the prince would want to seek out his company he had no idea.

Ugh.

He needed to stop thinking about Lotor. It was just making him more upset.

Slippers. Right.

Check the closet floor one more time. And then it might be time to go check some of the stairwells.

He was restacking the boxes of spare parts Hunk had squirreled away in his closet (his had run out of room, Hunk had explained, and he didn't dare put them in Yellow's hangar because Pidge would snipe them for her own projects) when he heard the door to his room slide open with a _whoosh._

Only Hunk or Pidge ever invited themselves in but Pidge normally did so with excited babble and given the immediate silence that left Hunk.

Lance brightened. Hunk could help him look for the slippers. He could even bribe the little furry thieves with delicious food to give them up (and then maybe it would be worth asking if Hunk and Pidge could install a tracker on them just for future instances).

"Hunk, _hermano,"_ Lance backed out of the closet, "I need your h–"

He cut off with a snap of his mouth as he took in not the large and cuddly form of his best friend but of a tall, armored and not welcome purple prince, who was looking at Lance's desk covered in skincare products with something resembling interest.

Lotor was in his room.

What. The. Quiznack?

"Get out," Lance growled as Lotor picked up one of the jars.

Lotor was apparently pretending not to hear him as he unscrewed the cap and took a delicate sniff, nose wrinkling a tick later.

"Get out," Lance repeated, although he remained standing next to the closet and keeping the few feet of space between the two of them.

Lotor ignored him still.

"Lotor," he ground out, fists trembling at his sides, "get out."

 _Finally_ the Galran prince looked up, a sharp smile playing on his features. "Ah, _Lance,_ how good to see you again."

"Get out of my room."

Lotor instead cast his eyes about the interior, his lip curling. "Ah, this… quaint place is your abode, hm? It could certainly do with some cleaning. Positively filthy."

"Get. Out."

Lotor picked up a bottle and set about popping the lid.

Lance gritted his teeth, letting the annoyance take the place of the anxious sick feeling that was trying to gain hold as he wondered again, what did Lotor want? Why was he _here?_

Did Lance shove him? He didn't think it would do much; Lotor was much larger and his feet were planted firmly. But he couldn't just stand by and do nothing. This was _his_ room. His space. Lotor had no business being here.

"These have the most unique scents."

Lotor had moved onto another product now – a tube of hand lotion – and had brought it up to eye level, reading the label with a delicate frown to his features.

Lance had had enough.

He crossed the few feet of space and yanked the lotion out of Lotor's hand, almost half hoping the extra squeeze would pop the lid off and a stream of lotion would hit Lotor in the face, but no such thing happened. But at least he was able to pluck it away and Lance set it firmly on the desk, stepping in front of it so Lotor would have to go around him to reach anything.

He realized a moment later that put him nearly toe to toe with the Galran and he had to crane his neck back to actually make out Lotor's face.

Too late to back up though without making it seem like a retreat.

And he was _not_ retreating.

So Lance crossed his arms over his chest and mustered up his best glare.

"Leave."

Lotor looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Interesting," he remarked. He said nothing else

And more importantly...

He didn't leave.

"Does that word not translate?" Lance finally snapped. "Go. Leave. ¡ _Ve_! Get out of my room!"

He pointed a finger that was definitely shaking with anger at the door. The door that was closed.

The room was suddenly too small.

Lotor let out a sigh. "And after I ventured all the way here to see you."

...what?

"Should have called ahead then," Lance managed after his brain stuttered back on. " _Casa de_ Lance is permanently closed to any psychopathic Galra princes."

Lotor did not appear offended. If anything his smile widened into a smirk.

"You are an amusing human," Lotor commented.

"You're an annoying Galran. Get out."

"Humans are such strange creatures," Lotor continued, still making not a single movement to leave. "So many variations to them. Size… hair… skin…" he reached out then and the tips of his fingers brushed against Lance's cheek.

Lance recoiled, lower back slamming against his desk and sending bottles and jars rolling as sure as his stomach.

"Don't touch me," Lance all but snarled.

Lotor's comprehension skills seemed to be suffering as he reached out his hand again towards Lance's face.

Absolutely not.

Lance lifted his own to smack it away, a small cry tearing out of his throat as instead Lotor closed his hand about his wrist and _yanked_ him forward. Lance crashed right into the armored chest.

Lance pushed off the armor with his right hand, tugging at his left that Lotor was still gripping tightly. "Let me go," he demanded, the words coming out higher pitched than he would have liked but his heart was racing and blood was pounding in his ears so loud it seemed to be echoing.

"Your skin is so soft," Lotor murmured, rubbing his thumb up and down the inside of Lance's wrist.

"Let. Me. Go."

"Shiro's was not," Lotor continued to observe. "Much drier. Is this innate to you or are those scented items the cause? You are–" he lifted Lance's hand and sniffed at it, the motion dragging Lance forward again although this time he managed to splay his free hand out before he fell against Lotor – "giving off a scent of… polari berries, perhaps? With a dash of cinnamon." He let out a low hum. "I wonder if the flavor translates from olfactory to gustatory."

Lance had no idea what the heck that meant except that he was _done_ with whatever game Lotor was playing this time around. He squeezed his right hand into a fist. Allura was just going to have to forgive him for punchi–

Lotor licked his hand.

Lance let out a sound between a gasp and a yelp at both the feeling of Lotor's tongue trailing over his palm and his fist veering off and crashing into the armor chestplate with a dull clang.

"What the _hell!"_ Lance swiped at Lotor's face with his captured fingers but the Galran pulled back, Lance's short nails not even coming close to scratching the pointed chin.

Lotor made a face. "It does not translate."

"Of course not!" Lance screeched. "Let me g–!"

Lotor released his hand and Lance windmilled backwards, crashing against his desk and this time not able to catch himself.

He went down to the ground with a rain of the remaining bottles that hadn't suffered that fate earlier.

"Here," Lotor held out his hand, bent at the waist. "Allow me to assist."

Lance kept his hands pressed against his chest, not trusting Lotor's offer. His left hand was still somewhat damp from Lotor's tongue and his wrist _ached_ but he didn't dare move it to take a look and attempt to dry it on his shirt. He wouldn't give Lotor the satisfaction even though he wanted nothing more than to flee from his own room if it would get him away from the Galran prince.

Who had come here for a reason, or so he claimed.

Time to get some answers of his own.

Time to stop playing the role of pathetic human and remember he was a Paladin and this was his room in Allura's castle and Lotor was the one who did not belong.

"What do you want?" Lance was grateful the question came out as even sounding as it did because his pulse was still racing, he could feel it beating out in rapid pace along with his heart.

"Want?" Lotor looked surprised. "Such a vague question, Lance. I want many things. My throne. Power. Quintessence. Whatever it is that the Yellow Paladin is cooking for dinner. Take your pick."

They both knew that wasn't what Lance was asking and by the glimmer in Lotor's eyes he was enjoying it.

Lance would not rise to the bait.

The 'with me' hung heavy in the air.

"Why did you come here?" he asked instead.

"To seek out your companionship?" Lotor said it as though it could be both a question or statement. "We are to be allies, are we not? I had thought to learn more about my human teammates."

"We are not teammates," Lance muttered.

Lotor clucked his tongue. "Not friends, not teammates. What do you want us to be, Lance?" He smiled then, fang glinting. "Perhaps something more… personal?"

Lance's heart jumped into his throat and it took all he had to meet that sharp yellow gaze.

"I want you to leave."

Lotor let out a sigh. "Very well. But I will not give up on us, Lance." His smirk widened. "I greatly desire to earn your trust. And I will have it."

"Fat chance," Lance muttered, more bravado in the words than he felt.

Lotor chuckled. "But a chance nevertheless." He shifted, feet angling towards the door. "Then I shall take my leave for now and see you at dinner. I look forward to it."

Only once did the door open and then hiss shut did Lance let out the breath he'd been holding, shoulders slumping as the tension released.

He rubbed his hand on his pants leg and then lifted it up.

Not a mark.

Not a fingerprint, a bruise, not even a splotch of redness.

Nothing to show what had just happened.

What _had_ just happened?

Lance shivered, drawing his knees up and pressing his face into them, hiding in the self-created darkness.

What did Lotor _want_ with him?

A brisk knock outside his door had Lance jerking up, slamming the back of his head against the desk leg.

"Number Three!" Coran called out cheerfully. "Dinner is ready, my boy."

He must have seen the light, Lance realized. There was always a dim beam that permeated out into the hallway from the rooms when the overhead lights were on; a fact Shiro had used to his advantage early on to catch Pidge up and about at late hours until she had figured it out and had taken to either hiding her tech under the covers or sneaking out to Green's hangar.

He also realized he was absolutely not going to dinner. His hands were shaking no matter how tight he gripped his knees and his stomach was still doing flips.

He couldn't see Lotor right now.

Not until he had calmed down, figured out his approach to this twisted game Lotor had apparently decided to play with him and his role in it.

Because Lotor was not a friend. Teammate. Ally.

He was _dangerous._

And not just in relation to the universe.

Coran knocked again. "Number Three?"

"N-not hungry, Coran," Lance stuttered out, the excuse sounding lame even to him. There was no way Coran was going to buy it either. And then he'd open the door and find Lance huddled like a child and he'd want to know why and Lance would say what, exactly?

Lotor had been interested in his lotions? Lotor had _licked_ him? Lance shuddered. No. He couldn't say that. What kind of Paladin was he if he couldn't even eject Lotor from his room for trespassing and had allowed him to do… do that?

No. Shiro would hear about it and Lance would die of mortification that his hero realized how absolutely pathetic his technically current right hand was. No. No no no. Not happening. Lance knew his position as a Paladin was good only so long as Keith remained with the Blade and if he said anything he'd only hasten that along.

Besides, nothing had happened. Not really. He picked his head up and looked again at his left wrist, but there was still not a mark to be seen.

No proof. Nothing happened.

"Number Three, I am coming in."

Lance managed right before the door whooshed open to flip himself onto his hands and knees, one hand closed about a loose jar of face cream.

"Galloping Gabaltrops! What happened in here?" Coran exclaimed.

"Um, the mice," Lance offered up, recalling the reason for the majority of the mess. He ran with it. "They took my slippers, I think. I was looking for them and, well, um…"

"Those pesky little furballs," Coran muttered. "I'm sorry, Number Three. Do you need assistance in tidying up?"

"No, no, I've got it." Lance lumbered to his feet, a few bottles and jars in hand and dumped them on the desk. "You've already worked all day." And he knew that was true. It was the reason Lance had been in the laundry room, trying to lighten the load where he could. Coran did _so_ much for all of them and Lance wasn't sure he'd last seen the man take a breather. "I'll, um, eat when I'm done in here. Tell Hunk to save me some?"

"Of course, lad. And I'll ask the princess about your slippers. I'm sure she can wrangle it out of the rascals."

"Thanks, Coran. I… I really appreciate it."

"Think nothing of it. I will see you bright and early then for training! Number One has some new ideas I heard."

"Sounds great," Lance said weakly, trying not to envision what ideas Shiro had come up with. He could get a little gung-ho about the training and without Keith there to keep up with him he tended to push them all a little harder than normal. Lance could already feel his calves crying from the running that was no doubt going to be happening.

"Toodles!"

The door swished shut again and after waiting a tick Lance let out another breath and tottered over to his bed, collapsing on it. He suddenly felt so drained.

He just needed a good night's sleep. He was certain that would give him some clarity, some distance and perspective for Lotor's actions.

He forced himself to get up one last time, shoving the worst of the mess into the corners of the room and picking up the rest of the bottles so he didn't trip on them come morning. He flipped the lights off and using the meager glow from the emergency light situated in the far right corner, stripped out of his clothes and pulled on pajamas.

He was too tired for even a facemask.

Instead he grabbed the darkening eye mask and slipped it on, followed by Pidge's pilfered headphones and started up the music player she and Hunk had made for him and loaded with all of the songs from Pidge's laptop and a bunch of Altean symphony orchestras.

He drifted off listening to the soft strains of an Altean piano playing "Symphony Number Twelve; The Morning Brightness."

He prayed that was a good sign.

 **Author's Notes:**

Commission fic (15k; three-parts) requesting (without giving away too much plot since this is ongoing), _Razzle Dazzle's_ sort of creep, hands-on version of Lotor is bored and decides that Lance will be his entertainment. Poor blue boy. Fic will update weekly Monday until complete.

Enjoying it? **Please drop a comment below and give the author some love**. I'd love to hear your overall impression, a part that jumped out, a piece of dialogue... the small details make my day!

(Like my works? Keep up with me on Tumblr, icypantherwrites)


	2. Two

**x**

 **Trust In Me**

 **Two**

Lance awoke to the shrill ringing of his phone; useless for making calls in space but the alarm still worked great. He reached out a blind hand for it and tapped somewhere on the screen, silencing it.

His head felt fuzzy, like he hadn't slept well although he didn't recall really waking up. He lifted a hand to his eye mask, shoving it up onto his forehead and blinked blearily into his darkened room.

He didn't recall having any nightmares and even with the promise of Shiro's looming training session (hence the alarm) Coran had mentioned he couldn't think of why he was feeling so discombob–

His eyes lit upon his desk, products still scattered every which way, and remembered.

Lotor.

Lance muffled the low groan by turning his head into his pillow. Of course. How could he have forgotten that creepy jerk.

But the churning unease from before was dulled and Lance let out a shuddering breath against the pillow. Sleep had helped, no matter how restless it may have been. It had offered him the space from his thoughts, from Lotor's actions.

He was fine. Everything was fine.

Today was a brand new day and Lance was going to start it off on the right foot. He wouldn't take any flack from Lotor or his comments or be toyed with like some marionette with Lotor pulling the strings. No matter what the prince did today Lance would have no part of it.

And as he'd learned from his childhood when the bullies failed to get a reaction then they stopped. He was going to stop giving Lotor what he wanted. It would be all sarcasm and barbs and stares from him going forward.

Lance pried himself to sitting, body protesting that it wanted to remain in a sleeping position and slipped the headphones from his ears. Lance silently promised himself a nap later if he survived training. It had been a few days since they'd actually had a group training session as yesterday had been their first day off from missions or assignments for the Coalition in a while and training tended to get shoved to the wayside when there were planets to liberate and Galrans to fight.

But as much as Lance complained he knew it was necessary and Shiro was a good teacher (if incredibly demanding but still nowhere near as bad as Allura had been and she had mellowed out some now too after Shiro had put her through the paces).

He threw his feet over the side of the bed…

And they landed on something soft.

He tilted forward, eyes widening as he took in his Blue Lion slippers. They were back.

He grinned, shifting his feet to go into them. Starting the morning off on the right foot indeed! Coran must have found them and brought them ba–

His right foot's toes encountered something crinkly inside the slipper.

Paper?

He brought his feet up to sit cross-legged in bed and tugged off the slipper and reached inside. There was indeed a piece of now crumpled paper.

At first he thought it might have been a wrapper, the mice did love their snacks, but it was missing the gaudy pictures and text in languages Lance had no hope of reading.

No.

This was written in English, an elegant script he had not ever seen before. His eyes scanned it, knowing that it could be somehow none other than Allura. The fact she had taken the time to translate a note and then write it down warmed him from the inside and he felt his cheeks growing pink.

 _Lance,_ the note read, _I believe these belong to you and I wished to personally deliver them._ Lance grinned. _I also discovered in my visit that you mumble in your sleep. I find it rather endearing._ Lance blushed an embarrassed pink. He was well aware he would speak sometimes while sleeping, normally a mixture of near unintelligible Spanish and English. Hunk swore though that they'd had an entire discussion one evening about much Lance hated cucumbers. For the princess to have heard him doing that?

But… she found it endearing? That was…

He hurried to finish the note before he started smiling dopily at the paper. _I do hope to see you at breakfast as I missed your company last eve at dinner._ Allura had missed him? He moved to smooth the crumple he'd made in the paper from where her signature was. Oh, wow, that was someth–

 _Lotor._

Lance froze as he took in the scrawl at the bottom, face going from pink to white in an instant.

What?

No.

 _Lotor_?

He dropped the note as though it burned, scuttling backwards on the bed away from it.

 _Lotor?_

Lotor had been _here?_ In his _room?_ Watching him while he _slept?_

Oh _Dios. Dios Dios Dios._

Lance's stomach gave an unpleasant wobble and he swallowed heavily, choking back the acid creeping up his throat.

Panicked eyes darted about the room, as if to make certain the prince was not still in it, waiting to see Lance's reaction to his note.

But no Galran was to be seen. The only thing out of place was Lance's chair, normally situated in the space made for it at the desk. Lance knew it had been there last night.

Now…

Now it had been pulled out, flipped around and was parked nearly in the middle of the room, just an arm's breadth from his bed. A perfect spot to keep an eye on the sleeping and oblivious occupant in the bed.

Lance whimpered and backed himself further up against the wall.

What kind of game was Lotor playing?

What did he _want?_

His phone rang again – he'd apparently hit snooze, not off – and Lance jolted at the sudden sound, a reminder he had to get up because he had training.

Training. Where everyone would be and they'd see him as this panicked wreck all because Lotor had volunteered to drop off a pair of missing slippers. Allura had probably even encouraged him to do so, hoping to create some rapport between members of Voltron and Lotor.

And the fact Lotor had left a note?

Lance gingerly picked it up, skimming the lines again.

Nothing incriminating. Just observations, like he had made with the skincare products. If anything the note probably read as sincere, an attempt to cross a bridge.

Lance knew better.

He knew but he couldn't say anything. Not without admitting how weak and pathetic he was that such a thing was even bothering him. That he'd _let_ something like this bother him.

And besides, Allura and Shiro had enough on their plates. They didn't need to deal with him and whatever problem this was he was having with Lotor.

Because it wasn't a problem. Not unless Lance made it one.

It was just like he'd said before. Lotor wanted a reaction. Lance just had to not react.

And this?

This didn't count. No one had seen him nearly start hyperventilating over a piece of paper.

A piece of paper he was going to destroy. Out of sight, out of mind.

Lance did so, tearing it into strips and then tearing each of those mechanically into four pieces and then splitting it again. The little pile of paper confetti that was left behind he scooped into his hand and dumped into the small trash bin below his desk.

Gone.

Never happened.

Just like this game of Lotor's. Lance was done. No more.

He forced himself out of the safety of his bed then – but was it really safe? – and shifted the chair back to where it was supposed to go. He took small comfort in the fact it wasn't warm; Lotor had at least vacated a while back, because even Galrans needed to sleep.

Lance froze then.

Where _was_ Lotor sleeping?

Allura wouldn't have put him down the Paladin hallway, right? But yet Lotor must have had a good enough reason to traverse down here without making it seem like an extra effort to deliver the slippers.

He was probably down the hall. Maybe even just a room over.

Lance's stomach bottomed out at the thought.

He ended up shifting the chair to rest in front of the door, not that it would do much with how the Altean doors slid open. But still. Some type of barrier between him and anyone coming through just in case.

He'd never changed faster, shucking his pajamas for the black undersuit of his armour. It would be weird though for him to wear the armor to breakfast though, right? He, who was always complaining about how heavy it was and why couldn't they do training in just the underamor suits?

Yeah. That would be suspicious on multiple levels and Hunk would sniff out something was wrong like a bloodhound. Assuming Hunk didn't take one look at him now and realize something was up.

Should Lance tell him? Hunk wouldn't judge, he knew it.

Hunk also couldn't keep a secret. He'd be worried because Lance was worried and then he'd tell Allura who would tell Shiro and that was the last thing Lance wanted to happen. No. He had to pull himself together because _nothing had happened._

Although…

Breakfast. Lotor's note had mentioned it but Lance, even though he felt like he might be sick if he tried to eat, couldn't avoid meals forever. He also knew it wasn't safe to go into training on an empty stomach. He'd really prefer not to faint, thank you very much, and he hadn't eaten since a light lunch yesterday.

He had to pull himself together. And so long as the others were there he doubted Lotor would try anything. He just had to get to the kitchen, find Hunk and Pidge, and hunker down with them until Lotor died.

How long did Galrans live for?

This could take a while. Maybe he'd have better luck finding a way for Lotor to leave Voltron. Yes. He'd mentioned the throne. If they could get him on the–

Lance broke the thought off with a sharp inhale.

He was contemplating making Lotor emperor of the Galra Empire.

That was it.

He needed more sleep.

After training, he promised himself. Training, hot shower and then sleep. But maybe… maybe not in his room. He'd crashed before in Yellow or Green's hangars watching Hunk and Pidge work. He was tired enough he was sure the tarp he used as a blanket would be more than comfortable.

Yes. Good plan.

Operation avoid Lotor until he died was a go.

Lance scooped up his armor, affixing the leg and foot braces so he didn't have as much to carry, and made to head out of the room for the bathroom. He wasn't going to devote the morning to a skincare routine – no point when he was going to be sweating before long – but his mouth tasted gummy and he did have to pee.

No Lotor – no anyone, actually – in the bathroom and Lance went from there to the kitchen, senses on high alert for any additional movement as he passed the few adjoining hallways. It's not like he thought Lotor was going to leap out of the shadows, but…

Well, he really had no idea what rules Lotor was playing under or if there were any other than try to make Lance as uncomfortable as possible.

If that was the aim then Lotor was doing one heck of a good job. But, Lance's eyes narrowed, if he refused to play then it was all over.

Lance entered the kitchen, braced for the worst. But it was just Allura at the table and Lance heaved out a silent sigh of relief. He must have been more audible than he thought as Allura picked her head up, a smile stretching across her lips. "Lance, good morning."

"Good morning, Princess," he greeted.

"Good morning, Lance."

Lance's head jerked to the left by the counter and fridge where Lotor was in the process of pouring himself a cup of the sort of grapefruit like juice they'd picked up at their last planet. It was such a _normal_ thing (he'd known from Keith and the Blades that Galrans didn't eat blood and children but still, juice?) that for a moment Lance was taken aback.

He could see Allura looking at him out of the corner of his eye, no doubt waiting for him to return the apparently innocuous greeting but he could see Lotor's lip curled back, eyes dancing with amusement.

"Morning," he ground out and Allura's tiny, nearly inaudible breath of air, of _disappointment,_ hurt him but he couldn't manage anymore than that and he couldn't make her understand why that was all he could do.

He'd wanted to go to the fridge and see what Hunk had set aside from dinner last night, but that involved bypassing Lotor in the narrow galley between the counter and fridge. Lance instead grabbed one of the clean bowls from over the ledge left in the drying rack and pivoted over to the food goo.

Cold, unappetizing food goo. It had lost its appeal after months and months and he still had no idea how a culture as advanced as the Alteans considered this a proper meal. But at least it was easy on the stomach and Lance honestly wasn't sure he could have eaten something more solid anyway.

He spent far longer than necessary at the food goo unit, stalling until Lotor had taken a seat so that he could avoid sitting by the prince himself. He strategically parked himself on Allura's other side so talking to Lotor was nearly impossible and Hunk wandered in a few minutes later, fully dressed in armor, and Pidge a few minutes after him but like Lance just wearing the underamor and leg pieces.

"You okay?" Hunk asked him quietly after Lance chirped up what he thought had been a cheerful greeting but Hunk's warm but perceptive honey eyes were staring more than a little intently. "You look tired."

"Didn't sleep well," Lance admitted, stirring his food goo with a spoon.

Hunk's expression softened. Lance didn't sleep well in general despite his love of it. It wasn't so much nightmares that kept him awake but the quiet. He'd grown up with siblings sleeping in the same room with him all his life and then when he had moved into the dorms at the Garrison he'd had Hunk and his rumbling snores and soothing presence. It was why when he'd nabbed Pidge's headphones she had to his surprise not complained and even adjusted them so they wouldn't hurt his neck when lying down. The music helped, but it wasn't a cure and some nights were worse than others.

"You gonna be okay for training?" Pidge asked, wolfing down her own bowl of goo.

"Yeah, fine." Lance searched for something to discuss that was not him. "Um, you hear anything yet about your dad?"

Pidge brightened and scowled at the same time. Lance blinked. "I wasn't authorized to go," she said, "but Matt was. He and a rebel party are supposed to infiltrate the science base later today." Her knuckles were white on her spoon. Lance understood and reached his own hand across the table, wrapping it about hers.

"They'll find him," he assured gently.

Pidge gave a tight nod.

"It won't be for at least six more varga," Hunk added. "So we thought after training we'd go sit on the bridge and wait for Matt to contact us."

"Count me in," Lance smiled, giving Pidge's hand a squeeze. Pidge managed a small smile of her own at that.

They finished their breakfast in companionable silence and then the three headed down to the training room where Shiro was already awaiting.

Pidge groaned as they entered and Lance winced along with her while Hunk did them one better and refused to step fully inside. Shiro had gone all out it seemed with one of his favorite training exercises: the obstacle course. Lance had at first thought such a thing was fun but Shiro and Allura combined had ruined that. You weren't competing against the others, you were competing against yourself and while that on its own wasn't so bad you had to beat your second score logged on the course two times before you were allowed to call it quits for the day (the first score was for you to get a feel of the course).

"Shiro," Hunk whimpered as their leader strolled over to them with a bounce in his step. " _Why?_ "

Shiro clapped Hunk and Lance on the back. "It won't be so bad. And actually, it's going to be a different sort of course today. Think," he grinned, "team building!"

The three glanced between themselves and then Shiro.

"Team building?" Lance repeated. The obstacle courses had always been solo runs and they had an uneven number of people anyway. But a team exercise didn't sound so bad. He grinned too. "Hunk and I are going to wipe the floor with everyone, guaranteed."

"Actually, teams are already picked. One long distance fighter and one short range on each."

"But Shiro, we only have five people," Hunk put out, frowning. "Who—?"

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Pidge's voice carried and Lance turned towards the doors that Pidge was facing, back already prickling without having to see.

Lotor. Of course, with Allura at his side.

"Pidge," Allura's voice held a warning note.

"Lotor is going to be working with us on future missions," Shiro said, "and as such it's important for us all to learn to work together. I expect all of you," his gaze lingered on Pidge and then Lance, "to act as Paladins of Voltron should and treat Lotor with respect, just as he will for you."

"I am honored by this opportunity to work side-by-side with the Paladins of Voltron," Lotor said, sweeping his hand low. "By your leave, of course."

Pidge scowled but bit out a short "fine" and Hunk gave a hesitant nod. Lance swallowed and copied Hunk because any further protests would result in questions as to why and he didn't want to slide down that slope.

"We'll be rotating teams with two runs each," Shiro said. "This time it's not about beating your own score but learning to work with your partner. First two rounds are going to be Allura and Lotor, Hunk and Pidge and Lance you're with me."

Lance let out a shaky breath. Not with Lotor to start at least. But he knew it was coming. He, Hunk and Allura were considered the long-range fighters (even though Pidge could extend her bayard a good distance) and so he would find himself paired up with the prince eventually.

Maybe he could attempt to roll his ankle or something before that happened. He hated the cryo-pods but they were looking like the better option than having to work with Lotor, even though he couldn't – wouldn't – do anything with such an audience, right?

"And begin!" came Coran's voice over the loudspeaker and Lance had no more time to worry as Shiro was already shouting for him to hurry to their starting position of the course.

Training with Shiro was… intense, was really the best word. Shiro always expected the best of them and he'd reminded Lance of the little league coaches when he'd played with Hunk; encouraging them above all else while still offering helpful advice. But ever since he'd come back he'd been… harsher wasn't quite right, but it was the only thing that Lance could really think of that fit. Perfectionist, maybe too?

He _pushed_ and shouted and while it wasn't negative the, "Come on, Lance! Pick up the pace!" wasn't exactly encouraging either. Lance didn't do well with negative feedback, a fact the Garrison had never seemed to understand for any of its students. He hit all of the targets dead-center in the shooting section without missing a one and _that_ had pulled a "Great job, Lance!" that he craved and he used that to bolster him through the rest of the course.

By the time they'd finished the second run Lance was a collapsed pile on the ground and wondering how they were supposed to do this four more times. And twice with Lotor. He glanced over to where the prince and princess were finishing up their last obstacle – the climbing wall – and both had matching grins of triumph as they cleared it with the final best time of the group.

"Five minute break," Shiro called out as they came down. "Hydrate, stretch and then we're going again. Hunk, you're with Lotor, Pidge with Lance and Allura with me."

So Lotor was saved for last for him then. Lance didn't know if that was good or bad; he almost just wanted to get it over with. Then again, the longer he could stall the better too.

"Oh man," Hunk moaned, sliding to sit with Lance against the wall he'd chosen to lean his head back against. "Lotor."

"Yeah," Lance mustered up a weak grin. "Not looking forward to it either."

"I have never been so grateful to be labeled short-range," Pidge slumped in front of them, draining the rest of her water pouch in one go.

"Wanna switch?" Lance asked, offering Pidge his bayard, not really joking, but she laughed and leaned back on her elbows.

"Such a generous offer, but no. I'm good. And you'll be fine. How bad can it be?"

Lance really, really didn't want to find out.

He at least got to have fun with Pidge before his turn with Lotor. And Pidge very nearly took his mind off the impending problem with her antics as the two of them raced through the obstacle course, which had changed slightly from the first round so they didn't get too complacent.

They made a good team, Lance thought as he took out the drones coming in from above and Pidge deftly handled the ones from the ground, moving about one another with a practiced ease in the combat section.

Their score reflected as such, their two-round average just a couple points behind Shiro and Allura's and honestly, Lance wasn't sure anyone could beat the those two powerhouses working together. He wished _he_ got to team up with Allura.

But no, his gaze cut over to where Lotor was exiting the course, Hunk stumbling from behind and sweat plastering his bangs to his face although Lotor's hair was as impeccable as other, he had to work with Lotor.

Hunk made his way over to where Lance was (Pidge had escaped for a bathroom break) and he offered the larger boy a water pouch that was drained in three seconds and then another.

"How was it?" Lance asked, hoping his hesitance didn't show through for the reasons he feared it did. But Hunk was too tired to notice and merely flopped his hand where it had fallen next to him as he spread out on the ground.

"Hard," Hunk managed. "But… but not… the worst…"

Did Lance dare hope for the same?

He already knew the answer.

"Did… did he say anything to you?" Lance hedged.

Hunk raised a thick eyebrow as his chest continued to heave under his armor. "Other than… about… training?"

Lance chose his words carefully. "Like, trying to be… friendly?"

Hunk shook his head before letting it fall back onto the ground. "No, man. Just… just training and tactics and stuff." Hunk looked a tad alarmed then. "Why? Should I have been doing that? I mean, I don't really want to be Lotor's friend and I don't think he wants to be mine but—"

"No, no," Lance cut in before Hunk could work himself into a panic. "I was just wondering."

Hunk's expression turned a tad sharper, the look he got when faced with a problem he wasn't sure how to solve and Lance tried not to stiffen because as soon as Hunk started asking questions then—

"All right, last group up," Shiro called out, not sounding winded at all. Lance was both awed and envious and so grateful for Shiro's timing.

Even if that meant now he had to be partnered with Lotor.

On second thought, he was fine letting Hunk's big beautiful mind ask questions. Anything to put this off for another minute.

"You okay?" Hunk asked quietly and Lance startled. He hadn't realized he'd been sitting and staring.

"Yeah, just tired," Lance said with a tight grin. "Can't wait for this to be over. A hot shower is calling my name."

At that Hunk chuckled. "Agreed."

Pidge was strolling over to them then, spring to her step.

"What's got you so happy?" Hunk groaned.

"Girl power is going to trounce all of you," she grinned. "Allura and I are going to lay you guys out flat."

"Nu uh," Hunk protested. "Shiro and I are going to win." He flexed an arm. "All the muscle, right here."

"Bet you and Prince Jerkface can't beat us," Pidge taunted, turning to Lance.

Normally such a challenge would get Lance moving, energy returned to exhausted limbs. But all he managed was a thin smile and a tiny shrug of his shoulders. Pidge cocked her head, no doubt expecting at least for Lance to complain about his new teammate, and he floundered to say something—

"Places, Paladins!" Shiro bellowed and Lance both again thanked and cursed Shiro for his timing. He gave off a sloppy salute to his Garrison team and hurried over to where Lotor was waiting at their starting point by the running track.

Lotor inclined his head as Lance joined him, staring pointedly at the course and not the Galran, who came to stand next to him. It took all Lance had not to shift further away. No reaction. No reaction.

"I look very much forward to working with you, Lance." A gloved hand reached out and lighted upon Lance's shoulder, a grip that he could feel even through his armor and despite himself Lance ducked out from beneath it, heart beating faster than it should as Lotor trailed his fingers down his retreating arm.

"Don't touch me," he warned, voice pitched as low as possible to try and maintain some semblance of control above his spiraling heart rate.

Lotor only smiled.

"Start!" Coran called and the two entered the course, Lance a step ahead of the prince and hoping to keep it that way.

They got through the track without issue, Lance going over the hurdles and eating up the lane as fast as he could and maintaining a healthy distance between himself and the prince. He was turning the team-building exercise into more of a race against his partner than anything, but Lance didn't care. He did _not_ want Lotor near him.

He wasn't as successful as he'd like. Too many of the obstacles required them to remain in close proximity and Lotor seemed to be taking advantage of that. His hands had twice brushed against his arm, once on his lower back and his foot had almost languidly caressed Lance's calf when he'd been caught up in the rope section and hadn't been able to pull back.

Lance hated it.

He also was at a loss of what to do.

He'd hissed at Lotor twice more to stop it but all he'd gotten for his words were more smiles and one chuckle of amusement. Lotor didn't _listen_ to him. And short of yelling for Shiro or Allura that Lotor was… what, touching him? he was out of ideas on how to get him to stop.

But he'd die of embarrassment before he called their attention to Lotor's 'attentions.' This was a game and he was going to win.

Somehow.

No reaction. He chanted it at himself. Don't give Lotor the satisfaction of seeing how uncomfortable he was. He'd stop then.

He bit his tongue when Lotor did it again, fingers lightly touching on the back of his hand when they both went for the same hold on the climbing wall and it turned into a squeeze.

Lance only pulled his hand away and said nothing even as his stomach twisted.

Don't react.

Breathe. Ignore.

Almost done.

The last section this time around was the combat one, although it had from the previous times; the land droids were popping like gophers out of the ground and the aerial ones set further back. Lance allowed himself a tiny grin. This was a sniper's forte and Lotor was firmly caught dealing with the ground droids.

He could at least allow himself to enjoy this bit of it, right? Maybe even knock Allura and Pidge back as there was no way the two of them were going to have an easy time with this section. Even Hunk would be laying down wide cover and hoping to hit them and it would take a while as the droids were moving quick and opening and closing around the target mark.

He checked over his shoulder but Lotor was swiping away at the droids, actually looking a bit flustered at the sheer amount that kept popping up with little beeps and Lance turned his back on him. Good.

He changed his bayard to the sniper rifle and set about resting it on one of the fake stone ledges that dotted the landscape and positioning himself behind it.

And go.

Each perfect shot sent a warm feeling of pride bursting in his chest, the droids crashing to the ground with satisfying thumps.

He lined up his tenth shot, the final one, letting out a soft exhale. His finger went to squeeze the trigger…

And the shot went wide as a pair of hands descended on either side of his hips and he jerked the bayard.

A heavy chest was pressing against his back then, holding him pinned against the rock shelf and the hands were rubbing thumbs up and down his sides. Lance's heart leapt into his throat.

"You have impeccable aim," Lotor breathed, breath ghosting on the shell of Lance's ear.

"Get off me," Lance growled, trying to shift but Lotor only leaned forward more and his weight and size were too much to shove off.

"Truly," Lotor continued, and Lance could feel fangs nearly nipping his ear. "You are something special."

One of Lotor's hand shifted then, moving to Lance's front and his fingers splayed across Lance's taut but churning stomach, nothing to block it save for the skintight undersuit.

Lance thought he might be sick.

"Stop," he whispered, barely audible. Lotor's other hand caressed his hip. "L-Lotor, _stop."_

To his surprise and relief Lotor withdrew, stepping back and Lance forced trembling legs to his full height and turned and stepped away from the rock, leaving him with his back exposed but with an entire field in which to move about.

Lotor stood there, hands innocently by his sides and raised an eyebrow. "You do not appreciate the compliment?"

Is that what that had been? Lance's hands were shaking, so hard his bayard was clattering against his armored thigh and it morphed back to its standard form. The remaining drone continued to circle above.

There was no more pretending. He couldn't ignore Lotor, ignore whatever _this_ was.

Lotor took a step forward and Lance hated how he immediately took one back and hated more how Lotor's sharp smile widened. He found himself unable to look away from Lotor's yellow and purple gaze, freezing him in place.

Without breaking eye contact Lotor lifted his sword and Lance saw in his peripheral the blade jam into the air, spearing the last droid that had floated lower and lower as the time ticked by.

"Ten out of ten," Lotor murmured, looking to the sword then and Lance heaved out a gasp, the spell broken. "It was a pleasure, Lance." He swept an arm towards the exit of the course. "Shall we see how we fare in round two?"

Without waiting for an answer he moved towards it, hair flying like a banner behind him. Lance swallowed thickly and forced leaden feet to follow. He kept his lips pressed into a thin line as if he opened them he wasn't sure what would spill out, the bitter taste of acid on his tongue.

"Lance!" Hunk exclaimed, having been waiting for him. "Lance?" he repeated, more of an inquiry now and concern crossing his features. " _Hermano,_ you don't look good."

Lance certainly didn't feel good. He could feel cold sweat that had nothing to do with the workout coating his skin and of course the turning stomach.

"What happened?" Shiro frowned, glancing from Lance to Lotor.

Lance just weakly shook his head. He couldn't say anything. There was nothing _to_ say. Lotor would twist it, just as he had been doing this entire time, turning sincere actions into something darker, distorted.

"I am not certain," Lotor chimed in, accented voice tinged with confusion. "He was fine until just a few moments ago."

"Lance, can you continue the course?" Shiro asked, voice slightly softer.

Lance knew he should say yes. He had to say yes. He had to prove his worth, show Shiro he did make a good Red Paladin, a good right-hand.

But his body had other ideas and he found himself shaking his head in the negative before he could stop himself.

He had to get away.

He had to get away _now._

"All right," Shiro nodded and Lance looked away before he could see the disappointment flashing in those grey eyes. "You did good today, Lance. Make sure you take care of yourself, got it?"

Lance managed a nod, Shiro's praise not even enough to blanket the sickness continue to swirl within him.

"Lance," Hunk murmured but Lance shook his head weakly and jerked it at Shiro. Stay. He was fine.

Not really. But he was fine.

"See you on the bridge later?" Hunk asked instead and Lance nodded to that. No matter what he would be there for Pidge, for whatever the mission revealed. "Okay. Um, feel better?"

Lance nodded again and, feeling Lotor's eyes tracing his form, he made his escape from the training room.

Tears stung his eyes as he made it into the hall.

Escape.

He was running away. Running from Lotor. From his words, his touches, his piercing eyes.

Lance barely made it to the toilet before he threw up his meager breakfast.

He let out a sob over it, hands trembling on the cool rim.

Lotor was right.

He did not deserve to be a Paladin.

It really was only a matter of time.

And his was almost out.

 **Author's Notes:**

Dun dun dunnnnn. Oh Lance, _pobre chico. No soy amable contigo. Lo siento (pero no realmente) xD_ Anyways, Lotor continues his little game and Lance finds out he is really just not very good at not playing it. Also, hehhh, have a little bit of my own personal experience with a stalker sprinkled in some of the events here so that creepy hair-rising feeling of dread? I gotcha.

Thanks very much to everyone who leave a review last chapter. I really appreciate it! Enjoying the fic? **Please drop a comment below and give the author some love**. I'd love to hear your overall impression, a part that jumped out, a piece of dialogue... the small details make my day!


	3. Three

**x**

 **Trust In Me**

 **Three**

Lance hesitated outside of Hunk's door, pillow clutched in a white-knuckled grip. It was late. Hunk was going to be asleep.

Such a thing had never stopped Lance before.

He'd known Hunk since he moved to America, his first real friend. They'd had countless sleepovers, heart to hearts. Hunk had more than once held him in homesickness at the Garrison, hugged away the hurt from the teachers who had spat barbed words at him and his intelligence even before he'd taken Keith's spot where they had only become worse. Hunk had seen him at highs and lows and everything in between.

He had spent so many nights in Hunk's room or Hunk in his since they were blasted into space, finding comfort in Hunk's gentle but firm hold and the scent of honeysuckle and engine grease that followed Hunk wherever he went. He didn't sleep well and had crawled in with Hunk on multiple occasions, even while Hunk was already asleep, to hide from the oppressive quiet and the occasional nightmare.

This was no different.

Except it was.

Because Lance did not want to talk about what had driven him from his own bed after two hours of trying and failing to sleep as his eyes kept opening to watch the door and make certain no one walked in. He _couldn't_ talk about it.

And they'd all had a long day already.

Pidge especially.

Lance's heart clenched for her, feeling her frustration and sadness pressing in on him. He had managed to regain himself enough after emptying his stomach and then taking the hottest shower the castle could provide with the bathroom door securely locked so no one could come in. Lance wanted to ask Hunk about getting a lock on his bedroom door but that would lead to questions of why and Lance couldn't answer those yet. Later. But not yet.

He'd spent the rest of the day before the transmission hiding out inside Red where _no one_ could get in and while Red was not the calming and comforting presence Blue was, she _was_ safe. She didn't try and ask what was wrong - Lance was both glad and upset - but she had sent a gentle (for her) assurance of safety and Lance had managed to drift off into a several hour long nap without a nightmare.

He debated going to her again tonight, but Red's patience was only so finite and sleeping in the cockpit wasn't all that comfortable anyways. But at least it was safe.

His room was not.

He glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to see Lotor creeping up behind but the hallway was still thankfully empty.

He still paused.

Hunk had to be exhausted too and he shouldn't disturb him. They had both spent the better part of the evening sitting with Pidge, who had been let down once again. Lotor's information _had_ been accurate (and for that Lance grudgingly had to be grateful for) and Matt had found a bunch of scientists being held in the research prison.

Just not Commander Holt.

He had been there though, not even twenty-four hours before. The others scientists had relayed that there had been an attack and Sam Holt had been taken by the intruders, who all the descriptions they could provide were Galrans of a sort who had been wearing masks obscuring their faces.

They had no idea what had happened to him or who these attackers were and since there had been no word it was doubtful it was an ally of the Coalition's.

And now they had no leads again.

Lance only prayed that since the commander had been kidnapped that he was still an important figure in the fight; that he would be kept as safe as one could be. Pidge could not lose him. She couldn't.

Matt had arrived a few hours ago, face as heartbroken and frustrated as Pidge's, and the two siblings had been holed up in Pidge's room since. Lance was glad she at least had her brother this time around.

He just wished she had her dad too.

A loud clacking noise had Lance jumping, heart thudding in his ears and his hand reached out and hit the keypad to Hunk's room without permission, nearly diving inside. He realized only after he was in the room that the later that sound was merely the oxygen filters going through their hourly cycle. Not a door. Not footsteps.

Not Lotor.

Just the stupid oxygen cycle. And now-

"Lance?" came Hunk's sleepy mumble and Lance winced. He had woken Hunk up, no doubt with his wild flail into the room.

"Um, hey," he whispered, internally kicking himself. He'd planned, if he did go to Hunk, to sneak in and just curl up while Hunk was sleeping. No questions that way. But now Hunk was awake and that plan was out the window. " _Lo siento,_ I didn't mean to wake you."

"'s okay," was the response. In the dim lighting Lance could make out the half-lidded white sheen of Hunk's eyes. They blinked once, twice, and then were more open and alert. "You okay?"

"I… can't sleep," Lance said truthfully, hugging his pillow to his chest.

"Then what are you waiting for?" Hunk asked gently. "C'mere."

There was no reason to hang back now. Lance crossed the room and as he had so many times before crawled up from the foot of the bed, squeezing himself in between Hunk's bulk and the wall, and pillowing his head between Hunk's already outstretched arm and chest and depositing his pillow up above. He always brought it but rarely used it as Hunk was comfier than any piece of bedding.

"You're shaking," Hunk observed quietly and Lance stiffened. He hadn't even realized. A large hand came over and lightly landed on his shoulder, rubbing it gently. Lance leaned into it, hiccupping back a sob at how _different_ this touch was which made him think of Lotor's and how _wrong_ they were.

"What's wrong?"

Lance shook his head, trying to bury it further against Hunk's arms to hide the sudden sting of hot tears. " _Estoy bien,"_ he managed, word muffled, even though he really wasn't.

Hunk didn't contradict him although Lance knew that Hunk knew things weren't all right, but just brought his arm around from behind hugged him as much as he could.

Minutes passed and Lance felt his pulse slow back to normal, comforted by the sound of Hunk's steady heartbeat below his ear and the wall at his back and Hunk at his front and a shield from the door.

Lotor wouldn't find him here.

Lance let out a last shuddering breath, shifting his head so he could breathe a little better and not saturate Hunk's sleepshirt with the crop of tears and drippage he could feel coming down his nose. He brought a hand up and rubbed it all away as best he could.

"I'm okay," he whispered then, the words not tasting quite so bitter this time. He was all right now with Hunk there.

Hunk must have heard the change as there was a hum of confirmation and the slight tension in his body vanished.

"Sleep well, _hermano."_

And Lance did.

xxx

The news came the next morning over breakfast, delivered by a grim-faced Allura.

Zarkon had sent a transmission, she relayed. _He_ was the one who had Samuel Holt in his possession and was willing to trade him… for Lotor.

Lance almost stopped breathing.

This would be where Allura said no, where Lotor was more valuable to them… but Pidge… Pidge _demanded_ they accept the offer, voice cracking in a mixture of desperation and hope, and Matt had backed her up. Lance wanted to say something as well but he was having enough trouble with the remembering to breathe thing to offer up any words.

And Allura…

She had agreed.

Lance started breathing again.

Lotor was _leaving._ He was going to be _gone_ and with him all of the glances and touches and games.

Lotor was to go with Pidge, Matt and Shiro in the Black Lion to conduct the exchange while the rest monitored from the castle.

But they weren't leaving for another varga. Preparations, Shiro said voice grim, as they could not expect Zarkon to uphold his end of the bargain. Lance excused himself from said preparations. He wasn't needed as he wasn't going to the exchange and since only Coran and Allura could maneuver the castle he didn't need to know about the formation and cannon range. All he needed to know was that worst came to worst he'd be suiting up and going with Red down to the rendezvous point.

That, and he never had to see Lotor again. He had no doubt that Zarkon's plans for his traitor son would not be pleasant, but at the same time he couldn't help but wonder if this was all part of Lotor's long game he had been playing. Because Lotor had not protested once at the idea, had willingly chosen to go along with the trade that Allura had not shown any inkling was to be a farce on their side.

No. He was still up to something.

Lance just had no idea what and there was no point in trying to figure it out. Lotor had already convinced Allura and Shiro of his sincerity then they weren't going to be looking further and anything Lance tried to say he knew Lotor would have smooth words to counter them.

And maybe a day ago he'd have made a bigger stink about this - about how wasn't it just convenient that Zarkon knew of the Holt family relation? How strange was it that Lotor wasn't fighting for his own right to freedom? - but right now he just wanted Lotor gone.

Everything could go back to normal then.

Lance was already trying to return to a sense of that normal and that started with finally picking up his room. Laundry was re-folded and put away, the bed was made, the garbage can with a ripped up note emptied. He collected all of the fallen skincare products and spent a little longer than necessary arranging them just so. He watered his plants, folded the quilts and picked up the collectibles he'd picked up in Voltron's travels.

When he was done about an hour later there was a sense of satisfaction, of _peace,_ filling him as he surveyed his clean room. There. Done. Fresh start.

He should report to the bridge now, to give Pidge a hug before she left and then be there to watch the trade in as much moral support as he could give. This wasn't just about getting rid of Lotor, it was about giving Pidge and Matt back their dad and _that_ was even better.

Lance nodded one last time at his room, Blue Lion slippers ready and waiting for his return next to the bed, and went to leave.

But his door was opening on its own.

Even before it fully retracted Lance knew who was on the other side.

And there was nowhere to hide.

Lotor was framed in it a moment later, completely blocking off any escape. His yellow gaze caught Lance's own ocean blue and a sharp smile pulled up the purple face.

"Ah, Lance, just who I wished to see."

Lotor stepped into the room without invitation but also without protest, as Lance's throat closed up. He swallowed heavily, trying to clear it.

He had to say something. Anything.

"Out," he managed, the word nearly physically painful to expel. He swallowed again. "Get out."

Lotor stepped further in and Lance backed up.

"I only came to say goodbye," Lotor said, steps purposeful. Like a predator stalking prey. Lance shivered.

The back of his legs hit his bed frame.

There was nowhere else to go.

Lotor continued to stalk closer.

"I do not know when I will see you again," Lotor continued. "But I do know I will miss you very dearly."

He was just a foot away now and showed no signs of stopping his approach.

Lance tried to somehow go further back even though he logically knew there was nowhere to go. His calves pressed up against the bedframe and the pressure, the shift in gravity as his torso leaned away was enough to send him falling, landing with a gasp of surprise on his back.

He hurried to sit up, heart thrumming, but Lotor was already there.

Lance choked on his next breath as hands descended on his shoulders, pinning him against the mattress and all of Lotor's weight leaned over him, long silver hair hanging down to brush his face.

"L-let me go," and he did not whimper, he did not, but there was no use in denying that as Lotor smirked at him, a dark amusement in that look.

"Let me give you a proper goodbye," Lotor murmured. Lance tried to shift one of his feet, dangling over by the knee, but Lotor pressed his own legs up against them and his hands dug harder into Lance's shoulders.

Lance vaguely wondered if this time there would be fingerprints left behind.

He wondered if that was the worst thing Lotor could do.

He was going to be sick.

"I would like to thank you," Lotor smiled, an unkind thing. "For amusing me so."

One purple hand - no gloves, Lance didn't know why he noted that - left his shoulder to come up and caress Lance's face.

He flinched away but the hand tightened, holding his head still.

"I know that you do not trust me, but do trust in me when I say this…"

Lotor leaned forward, nearly nose to nose and primal gaze boring into Lance's. "You are by far my new favorite toy."

Lotor straightened somewhat then, shifting his hand to card through Lance's bangs before trailing it down Lance's cheek and letting it come to rest almost tenderly around his chin, thumb reaching up to brush at Lance's lips.

Lance closed his eyes, shuddering.

He couldn't watch anymore.

Out of sight, out of mind.

If only.

His eyes flew back open as he felt a foreign pair of lips descend upon his cheek, hellfire left behind in the kiss.

Oh _Dios._

"I thank you for playing with me, Lance," Lotor smiled down at him. "I shall not forget our time together."

Lotor finally stood to his full height then, removing his weight that had kept Lance pinned to the bed.

Lance didn't dare move.

Lotor let out a soft laugh and lifted his hand in farewell. "Until next time, Lance."

And in a last flash of silver and purple and the _whoosh_ of the door opening and closing Lotor was gone.

Out of sight…

But not out of mind.

Lance lurched from the bed and barely made it to garbage can before he was expelling the contents of his stomach into it, hot tears stinging his eyes.

Oh _Dios._

It _had_ been a game. All of it had been a game, an amusement, a way for Lotor to curb his boredom.

And he had been the… the..

The _toy._ The plaything. The attraction.

Lance vomited again, all acid bile this time.

And he had played right into it.

He'd let Lotor do… do _all_ of that and he hadn't stopped him. Hadn't said anything.

He could _never_ say anything.

What they would think of him? To know that he allowed Lotor to do those things, say those things, and he'd just… let him?

He wouldn't be just a fill-in Paladin if they found out how pathetic he was.

No.

If they found out…

He wouldn't be a Paladin at all.

But…

But it was fine now. It was over. Lotor was leaving and no matter what devious plans he had up his sleeve he was no longer on board the castle. No longer here to stab someone in the back, to betray a trust, to put his hands on-

Lance retched once more, feeling the phantom touch at just the memory.

"You're fine," he whispered to himself, as though that was any more convincing than repeating it in his head. "You're fine. It's over. He's gone. He's g-gone."

He repeated it a few more times, with each pass the words sounding less like a plea and more like an assurance.

Lotor was gone.

It was over.

He was going to be fine.

Lance straightened from the garbage can, wincing at its contents.

He grabbed it, forced himself to stand, and then hurriedly exited his room for the bathroom.

There he disposed of the evidence down the toilet and rinsed the can out in the shower.

All gone.

He gave his teeth a thorough brushing, spitting out the lingering taste of sickness, and then turned his attention to his face, blotting at the tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes with a cloth, scrubbing extra hard on the spot where purple lips had left an invisible mark.

When he was done he looked like a sad version of himself.

A broken toy.

He shuddered and looked away from the mirror.

A moment later he glanced back, forcing his lips into a smile that did not reach his eyes.

He tried again and again until it did.

He was _not_ broken.

He couldn't afford to be.

He didn't know how much longer he could remain in the role of Red Paladin, but until Keith was ready to take it back he would be the best one he could.

Lotor was going to leave and he would take his poisoned words with him. And Lance would stand up, brush himself off and move past this.

As a real Paladin should.

Even a fill-in like him was capable of that.

At least…

He hoped he was.

He hoped their trust in him wasn't misplaced.

He would do his best. Give it his all.

Because Voltron was going to make the universe a better place, no matter his part.

And that at least he could trust in.

 **Author's Notes:**

And then Lotor comes back xD Haha, whoops. But at least at this point he's got the whole regicide thing going on and is going to be more focused on becoming emperor himself (and furthering his agenda) and he's not going to have the time to play with his toys, so Lance will be mostly safe-ish from his attentions going forward. Not quite a "happy" ending (at all xD) and none of that face-punching of Lotor or confrontation from Hunk I saw a few of you express hopes for, but this bated breath silence fits much more with the theme of this story as well as what often happens in situations of emotional abuse like this, especially when the victim insists that "nothing happened" like Lance does here. Poor baby. He needs some more hugs.

Give him some hugs and the author some love with a final comment on the fic. I'd love to hear from you and appreciate you taking the time to leave a comment! Thanks!


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